


Nympholepsy

by DragonSilk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/M, Mystery, Nymphs & Dryads, Reader-Insert, Sexual Content, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 18:18:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonSilk/pseuds/DragonSilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A demonic enthusiasm held by the ancients to seize one bewitched by a nymph." </p><p>Anyone who sees a nymph is said to go mad with desire. A nymph in her true form is dangerous to any man. </p><p>The good news is that nymphs aren't real. They're simply a relic from an ancient civilization. Nymph, nymphomania, and nympholepsy are all just words... right?</p><p>Sam Winchester/Reader</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scene 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, and I am not making any profit off of this story. 
> 
> I am a total newcomer to the Supernatural fandom. The first seven seasons are on Netflix, and I figured, "Why not?" Well, I'll tell you why not. I spent the next week or so WATCHING ALL OF THE SEASONS. D: It's pretty addicting. (I'm still not caught up with the current season since I have to find it online and that's inconvenient, but I SHALL CATCH UP.)
> 
> So, I'm a newbie to this. Please treat me kindly (well, not too kindly, please point out any characterization failure on my part).
> 
> I'm going to try to make this story feel as much like an episode of the show as possible. So, hopefully I can pull off suspense and action and all the things I rarely write. This is set early on in the show, because a friend of mine mentioned that she likes early Sam and I said I'd write a Sam fic for her.
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy~

The beat of the music makes it feel like the entire bar is vibrating as you sway to the rhythm of the song. You try not to spill your beer, but right now, you almost wouldn’t care if it did spill.

It’s a Friday night, and the bar is full of people drinking, dancing, and groping each other. It’s exactly the type of atmosphere that you enjoy. Dancing in the middle of the bar when it’s this crowded never fails to give you a boost of energy. You take a long sip of your beer—this is your eleventh beer for the night, but you barely feel a buzz—and eye one of the men on the dance floor.

He’s fairly average with a bit of a belly. His full head of brown hair shows that he isn’t old enough to start greying while his business suit says that he’s a professional. He wouldn’t have stood out if he weren’t groping every single woman in sight. You watch as most of the women make faces at him and try to move as far away as possible in the crowded bar.

You finish off your beer and leave the bottle at the nearest table. Then, swaying and gyrating your hips, you move through the crowd and dance your way over to the man. Once you’re standing right in front of him, you reach forward and grab his tie.

His eyes land on your cleavage as his hands grip your hips.

You lean forward, nearly pressing your lips to his ear, and purr, “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Marco Bishop.”

One of his hands slides around your waist and then down to grip your rear. “So you’ve heard of me, baby.”

Even if Marco could see your face clearly, he probably wouldn’t recognize you. He’s far too drunk for that. “Oh yeah, I’ve heard of you.” You drag one of your fingers down his chest before sliding your hand between his legs, teasing him for a moment. “Are you here celebrating the destruction of the local river?” Now you pull away and try to untangle yourself from his grip. “Asshole!” You shove him and stride over to the bar.

“Hey! Babe! Wait!”

You ignore his shouts as you wave at the bartender. “I’m going home for the night. See you tomorrow, Steve!” Standing on your toes, you lean over the bar and grab your bag.

Before you get a good grip on your stuff, two hands grab your waist and force you to turn around. Your back slams into the counter, and you let out a grunt of pain.

Marco Bishop is standing in front of you, leering down your shirt. “You can’t just leave like that,” he slurs.

You reach back, trying to grab at a bottle or glass. This causes your chest to arch up a little and press into Marco’s. He grins, possibly thinking that you’re melting to his charms or something equally ridiculous.

Shameless, you take advantage of this. “I can give you what you want.”

“Oh, I bet you could.” He reaches forward, but you slap his hand away.

“But first, you’ll have to shut down the factory.” You arch an eyebrow. You’re completely serious about this. If he would just stop polluting the river, you’d fuck him until he couldn’t walk.

He laughs in your face. “Yeah, that’ll happen. Now why don’t we leave?” He tosses you over his shoulder, and you drop the bottle you’ve been gripping behind your back. You scream in surprise and try to hit his head.

“Let me go!”

He ignores your protests and tries to carry you out of the bar. He doesn’t make it very far, however, before he’s stopped by one of the bouncers. “The lady wants you to put her down.” You can’t see what is going on, but you imagine that the bouncer is standing firmly in Marco’s way.

Marco doesn’t let the bouncer bother him. “You can join in on the fun,” he suggests. “You’re not my type, but it’ll be fun.”

Then Marco lurches backward, and you brace yourself. If he gets into a fight with the bouncer, you’re sure that you’ll probably get dropped. You’ve seen enough bar fights to know that you need to be ready to get out of the way.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to put the girl down and leave before I call the police.”

Marco shoves you off his shoulder, and you land on the ground. You’re not expecting the sudden movement, and you fall onto your hands and knees. A hand rubs your back. “Look at her! The perfect position.”

You pull away from that hand and scoot across the floor. Sitting on your butt now, with your knees drawn up, you have a clear view of Marco. He’s stripping now, taking off his clothes as if nobody is around, and many of the bar’s patrons are staring at him.

You push yourself up onto your feet and dash straight at the bar. Not caring about the bottles you knock over, you throw your body across the bar’s counter and land on the other side. Steve is already on the phone, hopefully calling the police, and you duck down so you’re sitting on the floor and hidden from view.

The bouncer is trying to get Marco to put his clothes back on, and Marco is shouting for everyone to take their clothes off and partake in the fun. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened this month, and if Marco is anything like the other guy, he’ll probably try to force others to strip off their clothes too.

“More wine!” he shouts, and it sounds like he’s right on the other side of the bar. Slowly, you start to scoot over. You don’t want to regain his attention. Even if the police are on their way, it’ll take them a while to get here.

Another bartender, Alex, turns on the sink and fills a glass full of water. He walks over, almost standing on top of you, and leans on the bar. “I think you’ve had enough, dude. Have some water.”

A hand reaches over and grabs the bottom of Alex’s shirt. “I think I’ll have some of you.” You hear a crash as Alex tries to keep his shirt on despite Marco’s insistent tugging, and then, water starts to fall off the edge of the counter. Some of the water lands on you, and you pull away from the counter with a curse.

Marco’s attention is back on you now, and you know that you have to do something before he can decide that you’re overdressed. So you grab the nearest object, a bottle of vodka, and bring it down over his head. The bottle breaks into pieces, and Marco’s head is doused with alcohol.

This action has no effect on him. He cheers and grabs your wrist as you try to pull away. You’re gripping the broken remains of the bottle, but you release them as he tries to pull you over the counter. Alex grabs your waist, anchoring you. Then Marco leans forward, placing sloppy kisses on your face. One lands on your nose, and you wince as some of the vodka dripping down his face lands on yours.

Before anything else happens, the police arrive and tackle Marco to the floor. Alex pulls you away from the counter and helps you keep your balance as the police wrestle with Marco.

You watch as Marco moans and bucks his hips against the officers. It’s so indecent and awkward that you can’t tear your eyes away from the spectacle. You feel bad for the poor officers. They probably don’t get paid enough for this.

Eventually they manage to handcuff Marco and drag him into a squad car.

It doesn’t take very long for everyone in the bar to push the event out of their drunken minds as they go back to dancing and drinking. Sure, Marco isn’t the first to pull a stunt like that this month, but nobody wants to worry about it. It will not happen again.

At least, that’s what they all tell themselves.


	2. Scene 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all Sam and Dean. Hopefully I do their characters justice.

Heavy, locked doors separate the mental ward from the rest of the hospital. They may not have very many patients, but the ward still observes all of their regulations to the letter.

When two men walk into the reception area, the nurse is surprised. Her internet browser is open and shows that she’s been spending her time liking pictures on facebook and making posts about her day. Her phone is plugged into the computer, and a set of headphones are curled up on top of it.

She’s not used to seeing visitors, and she almost forgets what she’s supposed to say to them.

The fact that the visitors are both tall and attractive doesn’t help.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah, we’re here to see Marco Bishop.”

“Oh.” The nurse is reluctant to share any information with these men. “You can’t. He’s under strict observation. No visitors allowed. He keeps trying to grab anyone who gets near him. At this point, we wouldn’t even put an animal in his room without restraining him first.”

Maybe normal men would be dissuaded, but the Winchester boys aren’t normal men. Dean grins at the nurse and leans on the counter. “We’re from his health insurance company. They want us to run a few tests. Just standard procedure. I’m sure you understand.”

“Mr. Bishop’s insurance company sent you?” The woman’s eyes widen, and she turns to her computer. “This is the fastest response we’ve ever had from an insurance company!”

“Yeah, well, we’re a family run company. Real invested in our clients.” Dean winks at the nurse. ”Now that I know someone as lovely as you works here, I’ll be sure to come by more often.”

The nurse giggles. She’s young and hears compliments like Dean’s from the patients all the time, but the compliment does its job and distracts her. She plucks two passes from a drawer and hands them to Dean. “Mr. Bishop is currently in room 167, but the two of you will need to have an orderly let you in.”

Dean takes the passes from her and holds one out to Sam. He attaches the pass to his jacket, walking into the mental ward without looking back. The electronic lock clicks into place once the double doors shut behind the brothers, and an orderly offers to show them to the correct room.

Screaming can be heard from room 167, but that’s true for most of the occupied rooms in the mental ward. Dean looks in through the door’s window but abruptly pulls away. “The dude’s naked in there!”

The orderly makes a face. “Mr. Bishop doesn’t seem to like clothing… or any of the food we give him. He continues to—well, you’ll see.” He holds up the card around his neck and presses it to a black box next to the door. Something beeps. “Give me a moment to restrain him.”

The orderly walks into the room and the door slams shut behind him. Both brothers scan the hallway and exchange looks.

“You really think this is our kinda thing?” Dean asks. “Dude might just be crazy.”

“I really don’t know yet.” Sam shrugs. “That’s why we’re here to check it out.”

The orderly comes back into the hallway, cutting off their conversation and letting them know that they can enter the room. They walk into the room as the orderly excuses himself to continue his work.

The man inside is sitting on his bed and rocking, trying to stand on his feet, and screaming for sex. He can't move very well due to his straightjacket, but it's unsettling to know that the straightjacket is the only item of clothing that the man is wearing.

The brothers sit down in chairs as far away from the man as possible given the size of the room.

“Hello, Mr. Bishop,” Sam starts. “How are you feeling today?”

“Cut the crap, Sam. The dude doesn’t even know what we’re saying.” Dean leans back and crosses his arms.

As if to prove Dean’s point, the man continues to scream about sex and wine, trying to lift up his hips the entire time.

Sam ignores Dean, focusing on the man. “What’s the last thing you remember, Mr. Bishop?”

The man continues to chant, “Wine, more, sex, must drinkdrinkdrink.” Every few seconds his speech is interrupted by a groan or scream, but it’s mostly nonsense so the sounds might just be part of what he’s trying to say.

Dean stands. “This is stupid. We’re not getting anything out of this guy.” He leaves the room without a single backwards glance.

Sam watches his brother leave before turning his eyes back onto the man writhing on the bed. The man sitting on the bed is covered in nothing but a restrictive straight jacket. He’s emaciated and his skin barely seems to cover his bones. He sighs and follows his brother out of the room. “Dean! Wait up!”

Dean doesn’t stop, but he does slow down. “The dude’s a kook, and we’re not getting anything useful out of him.”

“We still have to try!” Sam runs a hand through his hair, frustrated with the entire situation. “The guy who went crazy last month _died,_ Dean. He refused to drink anything that wasn’t alcoholic and just starved himself. Marco Bishop looks like he’s probably going to end up dead, too. Something isn’t right about this.”

“You know what I think?” Dean asks, pulling out his car keys as the two men leave through an exit. “I think we should check out the bar. Sample every single drink they have if we need to.”

Sam just rolls his eyes. He doesn’t bother agreeing to that plan. Dean is probably going to drive them both to the bar no matter what he says.


	3. Scene 3

Working at a bar-slash-club can be a fun job. You love the nighttime atmosphere, especially on weekends when it seems like the whole town is packed onto the dance floor.

However, working during the day sucks. At three in the afternoon, the entire building is nearly empty and seems to consist only of the “regulars”. None of these people are very interesting, and even when they do get drunk, they tend to just rant and whine bitterly. It almost causes you to drink on the job.

So when two unfamiliar men walk into the bar, you stand up straight and greet them with a genuine grin. As they approach you, you casually give them both an once-over. The taller of the two is incredibly attractive so you lean on the counter and give him a nice view of your cleavage. Then you make eye contact and ask if there’s anything you can get for them.

The other one speaks to you instead. “Yeah, we’re here from the health department.” He pulls out a badge and holds it up. “We’re going to need to speak to the manager in charge.”

This confuses you. “We haven’t been expecting a visit from the health department.” Normally there’s some sort of head’s up given when the health department is planning a visit.

“It’s a surprise check.” The shorter man reaches over the counter to grab a glass before holding it beneath a tap. “Now go get a manager.”

You frown at his actions. He shouldn’t be getting a glass of beer like that, but there’s very little that you can do about it. As a health inspector, ensuring that the tap works properly is well within his rights. So you leave them without another comment and head to the storage area of the bar. Your manager’s office is way in the back, in the farthest corner, and you find him slumped over his desk, half-asleep.

You have to wake him up quickly. Other than a single waitress, you’re the only one working right now, and the bar is untended. He follows you back to the front where both health inspectors have let themselves behind the bar so they can look at the shelves of alcohol.

Your manager grins at them. “Hello! Hello!” He holds out his hand to shake theirs.

The shorter one seems to be the leader because he’s the one who shakes your manager’s hand. “We’re here to inspect the bar. There have been complaints filed about this place.”

“Complaints?” Your manager’s eyes widen, and he leans forward to whisper, “Nothing serious I hope?”

You roll your eyes. There’s no reason for him to whisper, half of the people in the bar right now are drunks. They wouldn’t care if you announced that all the alcohol was gasoline as long as it still gave them their buzz.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” the leader states. “We’ll just be looking around. Where do you store your alcohol?”

Your manager leads them both to the back storage area, and you simply watch them walk away. Then you turn back to the bar and swear. One of the asshole health inspectors must have spilled beer near the tap. You grab a rag and wipe up the mess.

As you make your rounds, checking that everyone has enough alcohol, you keep an eye on the back of the bar. If either of those men tries to touch your bar again, you’ll whack them with an empty bottle.

Eventually, the two men emerge, and you abandon your book to get in their way before they can help themselves to the bar again. “Is there something I can get for you boys?”

“I’m no boy, sweetheart.” The shorter of the two leans over the bar, grinning at you in a way you’re sure he thinks is charming. “And you can get me some of your best beer.”

“Sure.” You wave your hand dismissively and turn to the attractive one. As you lean toward him, you do your best to give him just enough of your cleavage to get his attention. “What’ll you take?”

Your efforts to appeal to him are wasted. He barely glances your way before shrugging. “I’ll have whatever he’s having.” He’s looking around the bar and seems to be trying to study every single detail. You’ve seen your fair share of health inspectors, and none of them have ever studied the place so intensely. You wonder what he’s looking for as you get both men their beers.

The shorter of the two is studying you, and he openly stares at you as you place the beers on the bar in front of him. “So how long you been working here?” he abruptly asks.

You shrug. “A while. I’m practically a permanent fixture.” You’re one of the two main bartenders. If you aren’t working, Steve is. Other people come and go, but you and Steve are the best bartenders in town.

Not that that says much. In a town this small, there really isn’t much competition.

“So, were you here when that guy went crazy?”

You’re about to blow off his question, but then you realize that the attractive one is looking at you. “Which one?”

“The most recent. Marco… something or other.”

That question shows that the two men aren’t from around here. Everyone has heard about the way you almost got carried off. “Yeah. I was here.”

“So the guy, do you remember what he was drinking that night?”

You shake your head. “I wasn’t working that night. Sorry.” You’re not sorry at all, and you don’t try to sound sorry either.

You turn toward the taller one and lean across the bar toward him. You smile. “I remember what the first guy drank, though. A Bud Light.” You scoff. You don’t think highly of men who drink  _ light _ alcohol. “That guy nursed the stupid bottle all night. No way was he drunk.” You maintain eye contact with the attractive one, hoping that you have his attention now. He’s the only reason you shared this information.

Unfortunately, it’s the other one who responds. “So you’re telling me that guy stripped down after nothin’ but a beer?! Whatta lightweight.”

You just stare at him as he laughs. The long-haired male elbows him in the stomach, and you can tell that he’s not amused. You wonder if he’s always this stiff or if he loosens up when he’s not on the clock.

Maybe tonight you can find out. “You know what? Let me get the two of you some shots.” You turn away from them and let your hips sway as you prepare shots of the strongest alcohol that your bar carries. You carry the full glasses over to the men and slide them across the counter. “Enjoy.” Unfortunately, someone is trying to get your attention at the other end of the bar, and you’re pulled away from the two men.

It’s getting later, and people are starting to arrive. The bar is filling up, and you’re still the only bartender on duty. You keep an eye on the health inspectors and try to keep their drinks full, but it’s difficult when you’re so busy.

Eventually, the men both move over to a table, and they seem to be having a conversation about something. You can’t spit in anyone’s drink while they’re here, but you’re not too concerned about that. If the bar had failed its inspection, one of the men would have said something.

Mostly you want to study the attractive one. His name seems to be Sam. Or, at least, that was what you heard when you were eavesdropping on their conversation. You’re curious about him, maybe too curious, and you want to know what he’s like. You can’t stop your eyes from constantly shifting toward him.

The other one eventually moves away to flirt with a group of girls, and you forget about him. He’s not interesting. You’ve seen his type many times over the years. No, it’s the other one who has your attention.

Sam doesn’t have just your attention either. Plenty of other women are staring at him, too. It’s not surprising. A town this small only has a limited amount of men, and none of them hold a candle to him. Some of the other women are trying to get his attention, and their antics are simply getting worse and worse.

He’s completely oblivious to them all, which just adds to his allure. He’s too busy reading his book to notice anything around him, but eventually someone will approach him and force him to pay attention.

You don’t want that, but the bar is too busy for you to take a moment’s break. There isn’t a single pause between opening bottles and pouring drinks. You mix up a Kamikaze and greet Steve as he finally joins you behind the bar. Then a waitress asks for two martinis, and you reach for the martini glasses. You mix up the drinks, adding extra olives as requested, and then you turn back to the bar.

Your eyes lock with Adam Newman, and you smother the urge to groan. He’s one of those cocky God’s-gift-to-all-women types, but that’s not even the worst part. He works at the nearby factory and manages their sales department. He knows all about the chemicals that the factory pours into the nearby lake and doesn’t care.

You don’t bother talking to him and just drop his usual drink onto the counter in front of him. Some of the alcohol sloshes over the edge and onto the bar, but Adam barely even notices. You want to walk away, but he downs the drink like a shot and asks for more.

You glare at him, wanting to let all your anger out but trying to keep it contained. This is not the time or place for you to give Adam what he deserves. 

Steve fills the empty moment by sliding over another drink for Adam, and you kick back into gear, getting more drinks for other customers. Forgetting about Adam, you glance back at Sam. He’s still alone at his table, but you’re sure it won’t stay that way. Now that Steve has started his shift, it’s time for your break, and you carry two drinks over to the table.

“Mind if I join you?” You place both drinks on the table as an offering as you slide into the seat across from him.

Sam looks up before slamming his book shut. He places both arms on the table, hiding the book slightly, and gives you a half smile. “Uh, no, go ahead.”

You’re already sitting, but you thank him anyway. “So what’re you reading? It must be interesting. You barely seem to notice all the noise.”

“It’s nothing really. Just a… guidebook, kind of.”

“Kind of?” you tease. “What’s it kind of a guidebook to?”

“Um… Hunting.” He slides the book into an inside pocket of his jacket. “Nothing interesting. Really.”

Now you’re really curious about this man. You slide a hand across the table and lean forward. “So do you go hunting or just read about it?”

He opens his mouth to respond, but then the sound of breaking glass interrupts him. Both of your faces snap to the side, looking toward the sound, and you see Adam Newman trying to crawl over the bar. His belly is on the bar and his arms are flailing, reaching out for the alcohol behind the bar. Steve tries to stop him, but Adam doesn’t seem to notice.

A chair slides across the floor, and you notice the man across from you is standing. He makes his way over to Adam, and you watch as the second man seems to just appear next to him. Neither man makes eye contact with the other, but they move in unison, grabbing Adam and dragging him off the bar. One drags Adam out of the room, and the other picks up Adam’s left over drink before following.

Your break is almost over, but the two men are heading toward the back of the bar, and you’re curious. So you follow them. They drag Adam into the back room, and he tries to twist away from them. “I need more!” he screams. “I need! I can’t be satisfied! Nothing satisfies!”

Adam tries to grab one of the men, and his legs are kicked out from under him. He falls over and is quickly incapacitated.

“Nothing satisfies me since her!” He thrashes, trying to knock off the man sitting on his back.

“Who?!” One of the men demands. “Who are you talking about?”

“Need! I need it! Her! I’m so thirsty!”

You back away from the sight of the two men interrogating Adam. The health inspectors shouldn’t care about him. You’re about to turn away from the sight, but then Sam looks up and makes eye contact with you.

You’re caught in the headlights now.


	4. Scene 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had this halfway done, and then the power chord for my laptop died. I had another computer available, but I had so much of this already typed up that I just could not work up the energy to rewrite it.
> 
> And then I got a new power chord, and I've had a hard time writing the second part. The dialogue just wouldn't flow properly, and I don't feel like I have a comfortable grasp on Sam's character, and why did I ever promise to write this? D: Gah. Writing awkward, puppydog men is so difficult for me.
> 
> Also, I keep typing "Same" instead of "Sam". I don't even know.
> 
> So, hopefully this turned out okay, and if it isn't, well, I am trying, and I do hope to improve. T_T Writing for new fandoms is such an uncomfortable experience. *Crawls back to the YGO fandom to hide.*
> 
> Enjoy~

Sam places a hand on the other man’s shoulder. You keep your eyes on him as you try to back away. He says something, still staring at you, and you try to think of some excuse for following them. Sam begins to walk toward you. You double your steps backward, trying to move faster. You know that it would be easier to run if you could just turn away, but your eyes are locked with Sam’s.

You don’t know what’s going on back there, but it doesn’t look good. 

As you back up, your feet shuffle across the ground, and you try not to step on anything. Then your heel connects with a solid object. It gets caught, and you can’t lift it free as you try to stop moving. Your foot stays forward. Your shoulders continue to move back. Your arms shoot out, flailing to keep your balance, but it doesn’t work. Something sharp digs into your leg as you fall down to the floor. 

You land on your back with one of your legs propped up on a crate, and you’re sure that you will have bruises all over tomorrow. 

“Are you okay?” Sam kneels next to you, some of his hair falling into his eyes as he gives you a once-over. 

“What were you—? Health inspectors don’t… He—Why?” You can’t even understand your own babbling. So you don’t expect a response from the man looking down at you. 

He looks away from you and runs a hand through his hair. “What you just saw? That wasn’t what it looked like.” 

You just stare at him as he begins to stutter. Between the two of you, this conversation doesn’t look like it’ll get anywhere. Your mind is still trying to catch up with you, and you aren’t sure what that scene looked like at all. The two men seem to want something from Adam. They’d been asking him some questions. 

“An interrogation?” you guess, trying to find some sense in what you saw. “Are you… undercover cops?” It’s a wild guess, and you know that, but it’s the best you can come up with. 

His head perks up, and he looks at you with a half-smile. “Yeah! We’re… uh… in narcotics! Because of recent events, we think someone might be dealing dangerous drugs around here.” 

You nod, pretending that you know something about narcotics investigations. If anyone were dealing drugs around here, you would probably know about it. Nothing like that is happening at all, but you don’t want the attractive man to leave before you can seduce him. “So do you think the three men were all doing the same drug?” 

He shrugs. “Maybe.” 

You hum and reach out your hand. “Help me up?” It’s a question, but you’re sure he won’t say no. Men don’t often say no to you, and you don’t think that he’s the sort of man who says no often in the first place. He seems like too much of a nice guy.

He takes your hand and helps you to your feet. Once you’re steady on your feet, his grip loosens, but you refuse to let go of his hand. You take a step toward him, bringing yourself in close. “You know, as a bartender, I hear all sorts of information. I know who all of those men were and who they hung out with.”

“What?” He’s surprised by either your refusal to let go of him or your words—you aren’t sure which, maybe both—and he seems to need a moment to think over your offer. “You want to help?” 

“Well, no.” You give him a charming smile. “But maybe if you’re a gentleman, and you walk me home after my shift… well, maybe I’ll have some information for you.” 

He’s clearly uncomfortable, and that’s a new experience for you. Normally, men trip all over themselves to give you what you want when you turn on the charm. “I don’t—”

“He’d love to walk you home!” The other man grabs Sam and yanks him away from you. He turns to Sam as they move away from you. “It’s cool, dude, I can wrap up here.” They both turn away, and the other man leans in toward Sam and speaks in a low voice. Thanks to your excellent hearing, you can make out every word. “Dude. The chick is hot and interested in you. Go have fun.” 

“Isn’t she a bit suspicious?” 

You frown. This is not turning out quite like you expected. “My break is almost over,” you call out. Both men turn toward you, and you bite your lip as you smirk at Sam. “I hope you’ll still be here when I _get off_ in two hours.” You wink at Sam and then turn away from both men. As you walk away, you swing your hips for their benefit. 

You want to stay behind and spy on them. You are curious about them even if you don’t think their drug investigation will turn up anything. However, you really do have to get back to the bar. It’s starting to get crowded, and you know that you deserve the dirty look that Steve shoots you as you slide back behind the bar. 

The police have finally arrived, and you direct them to the back of the bar, stating that Adam is being held in the back room. You wonder if the two narcotics guys will hand Adam over or if they’re still interrogating him. Maybe they’ve roughed him up a little. Adam certainly deserves it. 

The police officers drag him out, and he’s still screaming, but the two men are nowhere to be found. You know that you would notice Sam if he came back in, and you wonder where he went. There is a back door, but nobody is supposed to use it. 

Eventually you accept the fact that the two men won’t be back tonight. The feeling of rejection is sharp and unfamiliar. You don’t like it, and you’re not sure if you want to chase Sam down until he gives into you or if you’re too irritated for that. 

By the time your shift ends, you’ve settled into a thoroughly irritated state. You briefly consider staying at the bar and finding a man to take home so you can work out some of that frustration, but you’re entirely too irritated for that. Instead, you steal a bottle of your favorite drink out of the back room. Your boss doesn’t care as long as you aren’t poaching the expensive stuff. You leave via the back door, carrying your bottle in one hand with your purse slung over your shoulder. 

You hurry out of the alley and back onto the main street. This town is fairly safe, but there’s no reason to tempt anyone into trying to threaten you. 

“Hey! Wait!” The street is busy enough for you to not realize that the person shouting is trying to get your attention. You don’t turn until a hand lands on your shoulder, and then you swirl around, ready to swing your bottle at someone. 

But it’s only Sam. 

You eye him suspiciously. “Yes?” 

He lowers the hands that he’d raised in self-defense. “Uh… your shift is over?” 

Your irritation fades, but you’re not sure what to do now. It’s hard to get worked up over something and then realize that you were worked up for no reason. You settle for smiling at him, even if it’s not a bright smile. “So you’re here to walk me home?” 

“Sure.” He sticks his hands in his pocket and stands there awkwardly. 

You let him stand around in silence for a moment so that you can observe him. He’s a fine specimen of a man, and you’re looking forward to feasting on him. “Well, follow me then.” You start to walk toward your home, and he keeps pace with you. 

You expect him to start the conversation and ask you questions, but when he doesn’t, you decide to take the lead. “Do you really think the people going crazy are on some kind of drug?” 

“Huh?” He seems startled for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah. What other explanation is there?” 

“Well, so far, all the men who have gone crazy work at the same place.” You shrug. “Maybe you should start off there?” 

“The police mentioned that.”

You aren’t surprised. It’s the most obvious connection between the first two and even the third man worked at the factory. The fact that they all went crazy at your bar is another connection the cops would have made, but you're not eager to point that out. 

“There are a lot of toxic chemicals at that factory. Maybe all those chemicals have something to do with it?” You’re very aware of all the toxins at that factory. They’ve been polluting the nearby lake for the past few months. You keep trying to protest, trying to get a public official to stop it, but so far, nobody seems to care at all. 

Sam frowns. “That’s a thought. Do you know if they had any enemies at work?”

“Not really, no.” You know a bit about the men from your research into the company, but you also know that your knowledge looks suspicious. You don’t want him to look into you as a suspect. “I don’t have any family around here, and none of my friends work at that place.” 

“What about at the bar? Do you know if there’s anyone who talked to all of them there? A friend they all had in common maybe?”

You shake your head. “The first guy wasn’t even a regular. He was only in the bar for a bachelor party, and like I said, he didn’t seem to be able to hold his alcohol.” 

Sam simply hums and seems to be thinking through what you’d told him. You don’t think anything that you’ve said is interesting or insightful, but you’re also not a cop. 

You wish he would give you more to work with, but since he isn’t, you decide to take the conversation somewhere interesting. “I grabbed a bottle from the bar, and I probably shouldn’t drink all of this alcohol myself.” You hold up the bottle. “It’s a pretty big bottle. Help me drink it?”

He seems torn, and you aren’t sure why. The fact that he has to consider your offer is insulting to you, but it’s also a bit of a challenge. 

“Maybe some other time?” he finally says. 

“Some other time I might not have this much alcohol.” The two of you have arrived at your home, and he isn’t following you up the walkway to your door. “Aren’t you going to make sure I get to my door?” 

“Uh, yeah.” He follows you up to your door but stops just before your doorstep. 

You have your keys out already, but you don’t move to unlock your door. It’s not very late at all, and you want the man standing in front of you. You want him more than the alcohol in your hand, more than you’ve wanted any man in this town. 

As a creature of instinct and someone with very little impulse control, you want to throw yourself at him and kiss him. You want to pull him into your home and undress him, undress yourself. 

The thought that he might not be receptive to your advances is the only thing stopping you. You are many things, but you have too much pride to force yourself onto a man who doesn’t want you. However, seducing him into wanting you isn’t out of the question. Well, as long as it’s possible.

“You aren’t gay are you?”

Your question throws him through a loop. “What?! No! No! Why—what would make you ask that?!” 

Silently, you unlock your front door and push it open. Then you do a quick scan of the nearby area. There’s nobody around, and even if one of your neighbors happened to be nearby it wouldn’t stop you. You make eye contact with Sam; he’s still waiting for an answer. 

You step out of your shoes and back toward your doorway. Carefully, you place all of your stuff down just inside your home. Then you stand up straight and pull off your shirt. 

Sam is shocked by your actions, as expected. You still aren’t sure why society is so against public nudity, but you do know that it makes it oh too easy for you to catch men off guard like this. 

You shimmy out of your shorts, still maintaining eye contact with Sam. You toss your clothes off to the side, unconcerned with where they might land, and reach back to unhook your bra. You let it fall off your shoulders, down your arms, and straight to the ground. Your underwear soon joins it. 

You’re pleased to note that Sam is reacting to your nude state. He’s not sure where to look, and his eyes seem to just roam all over, looking at everything and nothing. If you had more light to see by, you’re sure that you would be able to see a blush on his cheeks. 

You step toward him, and that seems to startle him out of his stupor. “What are you doing?” He looks around. “Anyone could see—”

You press two fingers to his mouth to shut him up. Then you grin. “Feel free to look.” Hopefully, he won’t be able to stop thinking about you after this. “I don’t work tomorrow, so come by here sometime after noon, okay?” 

He nods, and you hope that means that he’ll stop by. Pleased, you turn away and walk into your house, leaving some of your clothing behind in the process. 

When you turn to close your door, he’s still standing there, and it’s obvious that he’d looked at your butt. Good. “Sweet dreams,” you say before you shut the door. 

And with your _sweet dreams_ , you really mean _dream of me._


End file.
